


Conflicted.

by TheWolfWithinMe



Series: TenSimm Ficlets [1]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M, Master’s POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 09:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolfWithinMe/pseuds/TheWolfWithinMe
Summary: Every question the Master asks himself, seems to have the same answer.The Doctor.





	Conflicted.

The day was finally over, the last few party members muttering a hasty goodbye before fetching their briefcases and exiting the building, leaving the Master, or Harold Saxon as he was known to the humans, alone. Finally. He didn’t have to act, or care about stupid British politics until the next morning, which gave him seven hours and five minutes alone.  
Pouring himself out a glass of whiskey, he sunk down into his favourite chair and stared blankly at the wall in front of him. The drums were as loud — and as torturous — as ever, and alcohol was the only thing to give him any sort of release from the damn things. Which is why his cabinet remained fully stocked at all times.  
His hearts skipped a beat when he heard the door behind him opening, the creaking hinges making his headache even worse. If it was about the pointless budget cuts, he was going to scre—...  
“Harry?”  
Not one of his ass kissing politicians then.  
This voice was softer, and full of its usual concern.  
Tilting his head slightly to signal that the person could enter, his eyes soon met those of his wife, Lucy. His most faithful companion, and yet another pawn in this giant game of his.  
“Why are you here?” He asked, lifting the brim of the glass to his lips and taking a much needed swallow. The amber liquid burned and stung his throat as it went down, but soon the familiar numbness would take over and he’d forget about the discomfort. It was nothing compared to the drums, anyway.  
“I just wanted to see if you were okay, that’s all.” She replied softly, sitting down in an empty chair across the table from him. Her eyes caught sight of the half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of the male, but she didn’t make a comment, and the Master was thankful for that. He had chosen his companion well.  
“I’m... the usual.”  
Some nights, and this was one of them, he wondered what he was even doing here. On Earth. It wasn’t his planet, and unlike the Doctor, he didn’t care for the people on it, so why?  
But then, he already had his answer. The Doctor. The lanky, hyperactive, wannabe hero Time Lord absolutely loved this planet, and the Master couldn’t understand it. The humans were annoying, the technology average, and the landscape bland. It was nothing compared to Gallifrey, with its red rolling hills, twin suns and of course, the Citadel. But even Gallifrey lost its appeal when the Doctor left...  
Squeezing his eyes shut at the memories, most of which were as painful as a knife to the heart, he scolded himself for allowing the past to still bother him. He was here to destroy the Doctor’s happiness, not reconcile with the other Time Lord. Even simply knowing that his ex-best friend was on the same planet, made him want to run and find him. To go back to the old days, where they were inseparable, and forget about all the bad times. And as much as his hearts craved it — and oh god, they /did/ — he knew that that would never happen. Thet—...The Doctor had other friends now. The Master had seen them; the girly and the freak, and it took all of his strength to not get them arrested straight away. Watching both of them make /his/ friend smile and laugh caused him physical pain, and to calm the drums which screamed at him to ditch the plan and annihilate them, he killed two politicians.  
“Harry?”  
Snapping out of yet more thoughts, he cursed himself for being so /caring/ and sentimental.  
“Hm?”  
“I asked about the Doctor.” She chewed nervously on her lower lip before continuing. “Who is he? Why do you want to hurt him so much?”  
/Because he abandoned me/  
/Because he chooses humans like you over me/  
/Because I want him to feel the pain that I do, right now/  
/Because I miss him!/  
He said none of this, however, his expression staying carefully neutral. “Because he deserves it. He destroyed Gallifrey and the other Time Lords and—“ And me, he added bitterly to himself. “—And I need to finish it. It’s my job.”  
And just like that, the mask of indifference, the expression which truly made him suit the title of ‘the Master’, settled back into place.


End file.
